


Speechless

by AvengersNewB



Category: Celestial Navigation - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Blood and Injury, Celestial Navigation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Made up legal system, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Not between Steve and Tony, Omega Tony Stark, Other: See Story Notes, Possessive Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Sharing Clothes, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vomiting, but like if you really squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/pseuds/AvengersNewB
Summary: Omega Tony runs away from his abusive alpha, Ty Stone, and through an extraordinary turn of events ends up taking shelter at Steve’s, the ex-military now very successful artist alpha. Now he needs to get back his company, his fortune and his life.The minor problem, however, is that he's not legally entitled to any of those.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 211
Kudos: 541





	1. Here Comes a Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Celestial Navigation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720710) by [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc). 



> I think anyone who has ever talked to me knows that I am madly in love with your Celestial Navigation and I really hope this is a small token of my eternal love for CN! Tony and CN! Steve and of course you because you are just amazing! Thank you so much for creating CN and all the other brilliant fics for us to read and enjoy.
> 
> [Orange_Coyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote) this would not have happened without you. Thank you for all the patience you have for me and all your nice words and the encouragement along the way.
> 
> [BuckyAboveEverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAboveEverything) I am so lucky to be friends with you. Thank you so much for all the excellent suggestions, I am really grateful.
> 
> To all people on Put on the Suit Discord Server, I really hope this is worth putting up with my constant ramble about this fic. I hope you like it and thank you so much for all the help and support.

Tony looks at his reflection in the mirror. There are absolutely no marks around his eyes, haven’t been at least for the past four months, but applying the concealer under his eyes has now become a pleasant routine. Something to hold on to; something to control. 

Ty is still in the shower so they will be late to welcome their guest and as much as it is supposed to be Tony’s problem, it really isn’t. It’s not like this person is here to see him or anything. 

Tony hates formal get-togethers. The meaningless smiles and impersonal conversations that are _too important to be missed,_ and Tony _needs to pay more attention_ and _do better at staying connected_ ; unlike the time he was _so deep in his stupid little head_ to smile at Dr. Morbius when he spoke about his grandson and make small conversation about how he is a really strong boy who will present as alpha, just like his father.

Standing in front of the closet mirror, he puts on the white tie Ty has left out for him and smiles at the fact that he does not hate this cream suit. Well he does, but not as much as the fucking beige one he had to wear at the Art Production Fund Gala two weeks ago. He puts his cufflinks on, shoves the pocket square in his front pocket, and thinks about the navy blue suit hung in the closet in the master bedroom of Malibu house. He thinks about the way he would look wearing the suit, the blue shirt that got ruined in that incidenttwo years ago and the light blue tie he never managed to make Ty buy. A twisted rush runs down the back of his neck and his tummy flutters in a dark excitement as he pictures himself dressed in different shades of blue for an event. He stops thinking about it quickly though, because Ty is calling him from the bathroom. Nothing to do with the dull pain that he still feels in his left arm even after two years.

Definitely not.

***

Ty takes a last look at Tony, nods, and walks out of the bedroom. 

Tony looks pale, even under the thick layer of the darker foundation he has been wearing recently. He needs to eat before he hits the point of fainting, but the idea of food spins his head and makes his stomach churn. He holds on to the edge of the dresser, and the idea of their guest _still_ waiting in the foyer makes him feel slightly better. 

The guest is probably a small old bald alpha, like the other ones who come to beg for some SI money for their stupid-agenda-charities, who have long sticks up their asses and think they're too precious to look at the omegas in the room, let alone talk to them. Tony hates those alphas the most, even more than the ones with filthy looks, as much as it hurts to see the pleasure in their eyes as they undress him in their crap-filled brain. They at least acknowledge his existence, which in the most horrible way is better than being fully ignored and considered non-existent. 

With Ty’s cue, _my omega took forever to get ready,_ Tony looks at himself in the mirror again. He runs a hand over his slicked hair, straightens the tie pin, and lets go of the edge of the dresser. 

***

This alpha is not old. He is not small and he is definitely not bald. He actually has a very nice head of hair, blond and, well, beautiful.

He is tall and looks very young, even younger than Ty. He actually looks very much like Ty, with blue eyes and fair skin and even the very similar-looking black suit, which is nowhere near as expensive as Ty’s handmade William Fioravanti, but still tasteful and proper for the occasion. Dolce and Gabbana, Tony thinks; around $3000. 

Captain Rogers looks up at them as they come down the spiraling stairs, Tony's fingers clutched in Ty's hand, then looks down quickly, as if he's been bitten by something. His eyes trail away to find the stupidly large sculpture on the walnut table in the middle of the foyer, following the eternal movement of the Two Toned Moon, before he finally looks back at them when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

Captian Rogers steps forward and shakes Ty’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Stone.” 

Ty lets go of Tony’s fingers and wraps his hand around Tony’s shoulders. “The pleasure is all mine, sir. Please call me Ty.” He squeezes Tony’s shoulder, sending a frosty line across Tony’s chest, so he shifts a little in place and rubs his hand on the outside of his thigh to stop himself from pulling away. “And Captain Rogers, this is my omega, Tony.”

Captain Rogers keeps his gaze on Ty for a long second, and Tony wonders if pressing to Ty's side might help to push the shiver away, before Captain Rogers turns to Tony and holds out his hand. “Steve. Nice to meet you, Tony.” 

Captain Roger's face doesn't change when he holds Tony’s cold and sweaty fingers in his. His handshake is firm and steady, not the hesitant way alphas usually shake an omega’s hand, and for whatever stupid reason Tony can’t quite work out, warmth creeps from the tip of his fingers through his chest and all the way to the back of his neck and he does not feel like shivering anymore.

***

Ty is talking about art. He has actually been talking about the artwork in the living room for the past 30 minutes, showcasing the _in-depth_ knowledge of modern art he has acquired from eye balling the auction catalogues his curators send him. 

Captain Rogers is listening and his enthusiasm is a little suspicious for a professional artist and high profile art curator.There is ahint of judgment in his eyes though, which Ty probably can't see. Or maybe he can but he doesn’t care and that makes a lot of sense because Ty doesn’t really care about a lot of things he knows.

Tony is trying to stay focused on the conversation. Ty has one arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, squeezing from time to time. Tony’s hand is on Ty’s knee, tapping his fingers in a silent rhythm; trying to stay _connected._

He only needs a fraction of his concentration to keep on with the important bits really. The hardship Ty has gone through to buy Monet and the fact that he might use Captain Rogers’ art gallery, Marvelous something, for his future purchases, or Captain Rogers’ fascination with the fact that they own "14 Small Electric Chairs Reversal Series" because he has been under the impression that it is still owned by Bruno Bischofberger. Tony even makes a joke about how moving to a new house has created an opportunity for them to start collecting because empty walls need multi-million-dollar art works, so he doesn’t come off as _the_ _boring stay-at-home omega that he is._ He then looks at Ty, and thank God, Ty smiles as he lifts Tony’s hand from his knee and places a kiss on the back of it. 

Other than the mandatory minimum attention, the rest of his brain is working elsewhere. 

He thinks about Rhodey who will no doubt become a captain someday. A colonel even, because he is fucking brilliant. He thinks about the Malibu house and the top shelf of the closet in his childhood room, how he would kill to get his hand on that black box before someone buys the house and movers start to pack their things. About Pepper and how he has been missing her so much, especially the past few weeks. How he wishes he could just call and listen to her rant about her idiot boss, how the fucking alpha is so handsy she had almost kicked his ass a couple of times, and how her new shoes are pinching her feet but look absolutely adorable. 

He thinks about the new improvements for the face recognition feature of his project X and how he needs to write some hints down before he forgets the specifics, smiling at the fact that he calls it project X in his own mind as if he is terrified of someone listening within his own fucking brain. 

He also thinks about babies. Many of them actually. He somehow feels he is trapped in a cute nursery, or a haunted house, and there is a baby at each and every corner. He can hear them cry and coo and giggle. He can even almost smell them and that is absolutely ridiculous.

Tony snaps out of the baby scent haze, when Ty squeezes his arm with one hand and his fingers with the other. He looks at Ty, who is not looking at him, and then looks at their guest. Captain Rogers is in fact looking at Tony, at least for a few short seconds, and Tony might be making this up but his eyes are a little worried. Tony can’t quite figure out why, and it doesn’t really matter anyway, because Captain Rogers is now looking at Ty again, continuing his infomercial about his charity, _Homes for …_ whatever.

Ty squeezes his fingers again, only a touch harder this time, but it’s there and it’s enough for a line of ice to go from his fingers through his heart to his arm, where Ty’s other hand is. Tony stands up too quickly, and he feels almost weightless with no part of Ty’s body touching his. 

“I’ll … um...check up on the food. Kitchen. Dinner ... need to check on it. Excuse me.” He looks at Captain Rogers and then at Ty. Ty nods, still not looking at him, so Tony turns to the door and walks out of the room. 

***

The oyster is ready to be shocked. The Steak is marinated and the pork belly is spiced. Tony sets the oven temperature and gets Helen to take the last platter of appetizers to the living room. He has set the table earlier, with the blue Limoges china Ty has asked for. He has folded the napkins into elegant blue and white swans as Helen wiped the dust off the swarovski crystal glassware. There will be only 3 people at the table, and Tony doesn’t hate swans as much as the fucking stupid bunnies he had to make 14 of during a miserable hour of trying 38 times.

He needs to go back to the living room for at least half an hour before he can come back and get dinner going, but all he wants to do is take off the suit vest and tie and lie down. He feels dizzy and hungry but the idea of eating worsens the nausea that crawls from his stomach up to his throat. 

Tony slips into the bathroom, turns the water on and washes his face. As the water is running, he looks at his reflection in the mirror and runs his wet hands over his hair, hoping to get the few curls straightened back into slicked hair. He can’t really remember the last time his hair has been curly. He actually doesn’t remember how he looks without half a bottle of product in his hair. 

***

Captain Rogers talks about his charity as the entree is served. He goes on about the shelter in Brooklyn over the orange braised chicken and explains his plans for their facility in upstate New York that is still under development as he finishes the risotto.

He doesn’t look like the people who usually come over to ask for donations. He also does not sound like them. There is something earnest about the way he talks about the veterans, and the sorrow in his eyes when he recalls the number of people they can’t accommodate every single night seems genuine. For a short second, Tony believes that this is not a show; That this rich alpha’s charity is not a tax-escape zone and he actually cares about the people he is here to get money for, but he knows better. Tony knows much better than that. 

***

The dinner is finally off the table and Tony is happy to have managed to get through it without having to run to the bathroom or throwing up on the table.

He is still hungry but he can’t eat more than a bite of the tiramisu cheesecake. The cheesecake is probably delicious though; Ty has finished his and Captain Rogers is scraping the last bits of it off his plate.

Tony smashes his piece with the dessert fork so it doesn’t look so intact. He is not sure how long the pretend eating strategy will work, before he either starves to death or Ty figures something out, but he is not looking forward to either of those. 

Tony has been quiet, a little longer than he has planned for. It’s not like he is not interested in the services Homes for Heroes currently provides to veterans to prevent homelessness, because he really is. He has been mentally analyzing a number of SI production lines that could be scaled down and implemented in this upstate facility that will provide on-site job training and employment opportunities for the discharged veterans with no job experience. 

It’s just that charity talk and business ideas are not among the safe topics to be spoken about in these get-togethers.

"Where do you live, Captain Rogers? Manhattan?" Now that’s something safe to ask. Harmless, not showing off but still not boring.

Captain Rogers finally puts down the fork and there is not a single crumb left on his plate. He thanks Helen for the millionth time as she clears the table and something bubbles up in Tony's heart when Helen's face is the happiest he's ever seen.

"Brooklyn. ’m mad in love with Brooklyn. I was born and raised there.” Captain Rogers looks at Tony and smiles. “Moved back two years ago. Live and work there like a true local.” 

Maybe it’s the suddenly distinctive Brooklyn accent, or the way his voice cracks when he talks about his _ma_ and their tiny flat, or the fact that he doesn’t ignore the help like every other person Tony has ever dined with, but Tony’s heart does a flip flop in his chest and a warm wave of calm washes over him. He smiles back almost involuntarily and for a moment forgets where he is and what he is doing here.

“Wow! You have one of those narrow townhouses? I’ve always wanted to actually see the inside of them.” 

The weight of Ty’s hand as he wraps it around Tony, brings him back to reality. He suddenly becomes aware of his stupid enthusiasm and his sheepish grin so he shuts his mouth, ducks his head and holds his cup with both hands. He is not really worried about the way Ty’s fingers are now digging into his arm, pressure slowly building up and traversing through his body. Captain Rogers witnessing him being _the loose, smile to all, slutty omega_ that he is, on the other hand, makes him feel like curling into a ball or slipping under the table. Or disappearing altogether.

Tony’s eyes start to sting, and he focuses on breathing in and out as Captain Rogers talks about his house, the lightfilled rooms, the buzz of the neighborhood and the ridiculous tax rates.

It must be amazing. Living somewhere that you can _walk_ to the shops and see people passing by when you look out of the window. 

He has never lived in any city, but he’s always wanted to. Ty once promised they would live in a big city, at least temporarily, and in the painful haste of moving from Malibu, New York being the destination was the only relief for Tony. He is stupid though, obviously. New York is a fucking state. It has suburbs with five people living in acres of land. Two people in ten acres to be exact in his case, if he does not count the occasional help. He is a wishful moron and that is really nobody’s fault.

Ty is not digging his nails into Tony’s suit anymore but his grip is too firm; even if it’s not showing from the easy way his hand is laying on Tony’s arm. 

“So you’ve never bonded, Steve? You live alone?” Ty’s question is a sign. Tony should not be surprised by any of Ty’s signs, hints and games after being through so many of them over the years but he still is, every fucking time.

“No, I have not. I wanted to five years ago … but things got in the way and … well, I just never did really.” Captain Rogers eyes are suddenly sad. He looks at Tony. His eyes follow Ty’s hand and stay on his grip on Tony’s shoulder for a few seconds. Things that get in the way could mean a million different things but that wistful sigh rules most of them out. It probably has something to do with unspoken words and missed opportunities, as this rich beautiful alpha can bond to any omega he wants with a snap of his fingers.

“Well, let me tell you this, you are missing out big time and you should absolutely get bonded. This is definitely something you want.” Ty turns his head to Tony as he gently turns his head toward himself. He looks into Tony’s eyes and his gaze and smile are so familiar and so safe.

“Look at my abundance of happiness and joy. He is exactly what I want. Everything I ever wanted.” Ty reaches for Tony’s hand on the table and kisses it. Tony’s heart is actually racing now; every word making his heart beat a little faster.

“You had no idea how to boil an egg when we first met. But look at the feast you threw tonight. It was amazing.” Ty's smile widens into a grin that shows off his beautiful white teeth. Tony’s heart is not racing anymore though. He keeps Ty’s gaze and even manages to keep his soft smile in place, but he can feel the blood draining from his ears and his fingers and toes getting ice cold. He is suddenly very very nauseated and it won’t be the worst thing in the world if he accidentally throws up right this moment.

“You prepared the food? All of it?” Captain Rogers seems genuinely amazed as he looks at Tony and then at Ty. “The lamb? The cheesecake? Wow, it’s really impressive.” Tony nods with a little smile. His burning cheeks could probably pass as blushing but he can’t help the sheer disappointment in his glare before he ducks his head. Captain Rogers might be clueless about the intent behind Ty’s words but that does not change the fact that he has followed Ty’s lead and repeated those words. Charming accents and minimum levels of care for the human race could be quite misleading. Captain Steve Rogers is probably -- 

“The versatility really. Cooking at a professional level _and_ designing the new Stark flagship semi-automatics guns? _That_ is really impressive.” 

Tony is now truly blushing. It's not that big a deal really, it's not like he has not been praised for what he does, or _has done_ for SI. It's one of the first things Ty says when he wants to get in Tony's good books. Even Obie has called him the golden goose when SI share prices skyrocketed after the StarkWatch1 release. But the way this stranger alpha picks up on Tony's disappointment and knows exactly what to say as damage control is just amazing. A part of Tony's brain is screaming at his stupid need for validation but the rest of him doesn't care. He is suddenly extremely happy and he is not cold or nauseated any more.

“I thought you left the armed forces ages ago, Captain Rogers. Do they send you a monthly newspaper with updates on the weapons industry? Does it come by post every 3rd Wednesday of the month? Or do they send emails these days?” Tony is usually _not very funny_ and Ty is still rolling his eyes as he reaches for the Cognac glass on Helen’s tray. Captain Rogers, however, does not roll his eyes. He doesn’t look at him disapprovingly either. He puts one arm on his chest, throws his head back and laughs so hard that even the chair he is sitting on shakes a little. Tony is now hot, he is probably sweating under his suit jacket. The melody of Captain Rogers’ laughter has made a swirling wave low in his belly and fuck the damn hormones but he is thinking things he should not be thinking and the whole thing is suddenly really really inappropriate. 

Captain Rogers wipes his eyes with his hands and takes a deep breath. He is not laughing anymore but his voice is still ringing with happiness. “They do send things. By mail, as I have not agreed to receive emails yet. There have been stories about Stark Industries weapons in them too but not this particular one.” 

He then tilts his head to the side and his eyes are suddenly serious. He looks at Tony with narrowed eyes, pressing his lips together before he opens his mouth to speak again. “This particular one was … impossible to miss, really. SI was in the news for a whole two weeks and every single show on every single channel talked about it at some point. It was kind of a great deal, wasn’t it?” 

Tony is confused. Well, true, he has not been exactly following the news in the past six months but new military weapons are never a big deal in mainstream TV. Captain Rogers looks too serious to be countering Tony’s joke. 

“Why would Starklite 14s be on the news? We don’t have a TV but as far as I remember SI launching a new rifle is business as usual?” Tony looks at Ty who is, for fuck’s sake, looking at his StarkWatch. He has finally loosened his grip on Tony’s arm and is now rubbing the painful points that will bruise tomorrow. It’s no one’s fault that Tony bruises that easily though. He has a _very thin skin_. Literally. And metaphorically.

Captain Rogers levels his head and sits back. 

“I guess it is. But the fact that these were the first rifles SI ever provided for the civilian market was -sorta- the big deal. I guess.”

Tony shakes his head. Again. And then one more time. He feels like he is losing consciousness as things seem to get away from him, like he is soaring up or being pushed back. His brain reprocesses the words he has just heard but there is no other possible meaning to them. Something blocks his airway and his mouth suddenly feels like a desert. He can vauguly feel Ty’s hold tightening around his arm, yet instead of the usual shiver a fire line runs through his chest and burns his heart. 

He reaches for Ty’s hand on his arm and pushes it away, then presses his fingers on the burning spots. His hands are too small and running them across his arms can’t really put out the fire burning his whole body right now. 

He slowly turns his head towards Ty, expecting to bite his tongue and shut up as he always does just seeing the discontented look on Ty’s face, and he is surprised to hear the sound of his own voice. It’s small and almost quiet, but it is there. 

“Civilian market? Semi-automatic StarkLites with my multi-bore system are sold in Walmart?”

Ty turns his head, gently, and smiles. He looks calm and measured but Tony can smell his distress. Ty is caught off guard. He does not have a plan and he is shit at thinking on the spot. “Tony, this is not what you’re thinking, doll.” 

“Don’t you dare, Ty. Don’t doll me now. Just. Please. Don’t.” Tony’s lips are trembling as he raises his hand to clutch Ty’s jacket. He really wants to shake Ty and he hates it so much but he also wants to hold on to him somehow, because his head is spinning and he is not sure if he is sitting or falling.

“100 milion dollar deal with the Army, huh? I worked days and nights, skipping sleep so we could make the _deadline_? Great job, Tony, we secured another deal with the Navy! How many did you push in the market, Ty? 60,000 ? The one thing ... the only thing … I optimised the bullet penetration for the … civilians? So the guns kill the kids better in mass shootings?!”

Tony is shaking. He feels dizzy and nauseated, not really sure about anything anymore. He doesn’t want to think about the hours spent contemplating the perfect magazine capacity and the implication of that perfect magazine when an active shooter is changing it to fire into a crowd in the local mall. He drops his hand, claws the table cloth and then the fucking stupid tears start running down his face.

Ty draws his hand out and his fingers touch Tony’s chin. His touch is cutting and cold but for a fraction of a second, part of Tony’s omega brain craves to be buried in the familiarity of Ty’s scent. He leans in toward Ty, because the world might stop spinning if he rests his head on Ty’s chest. But right before his cheek reaches the smooth fabric of Ty’s Jacket, Tony feels a sharp stabbing pain deep inside his belly. Something invisible grabs at him and pulls him back inch by inch. He is still light-headed and shaky but he is not uncertain anymore. 

“Tony, honey, this is not the place. We will talk about this later, alright baby? I did what I had to do. You know that’s always for the best, sweetheart.” 

Ty’s deep alpha voice is supposed to be enough. In a simpler life, Tony would roll over and show his belly on hearing only one of the sweet pet names Ty is throwing at him right now. It’s not a simpler life though. His fucking stupid hormonal omega brain hard coding is too incompetent to handle the situation. 

Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He slaps Ty’s hand away from his face with a strength he can’t quite work out the source of and knocks his full Cognac glass over the Egyptian cotton tablecloth as he pushes his chair back and stands up. He waits a few seconds for the room to stop reeling around then turns and marches out without looking back at Ty.

He is grateful for not collapsing as he goes through the hallway and walks up the stairs. He also smiles at the image of comedic horror in Captain Rogers’ eyes as Tony marches out of the room. 

Aside from that, he is absolutely, truly and utterly terrified. 

***

He steps into their bedroom, closes the door and leans his back against it. He wants to lock this door, hide in the bathroom and lock that door too, but he doesn’t exactly have the keys to any of these fucking doors and even if he did it’s not like locks can hold Ty out of any rooms he wishes to be inside of. Part of him wishes for Ty to find it rude to leave their guest on his own. The other part though … knows the drill. 

He sits on the bed, loosens his tie and tries not to think about Ty’s footsteps getting closer. He thinks about being such a screw up instead, how he has blown up six months of fragile peace and how he should have thought about this thing within him before putting on a show. Watching the knob turn and the door open, he wonders if he can wash and keep these sheets or he will need to throw them out tomorrow. 

***

Tony is flying. He might also be sinking because he struggles for air with each breath and every small movement sends a wave of pain all over his body. This doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore, but to be fair, it wasn't a particularly good idea an hour ago either. It was the only idea, a vision that came to him when Ty left the room to get back to their guest without locking the door and a strand of hope that he had five minutes to hang on to before it was gone forever. It seemed crazy and impossible to even get to Captain Rogers' vintage Camaro parked at the front without being seen and Tony is still not sure how he has managed to fit into what must be the tiniest trunk of all American-made cars. But now, the adrenaline that rushed him down the stairs and out of the back door is gone and all that is left is doubt, pain and horror. He is stuck in a practical coffin that some people hide dead bodies in and wonders if he will end up as one, before he sees the sky ever again.

He tries to think about something happy but his brain is betraying him as always. Slow constant movements and dizziness make him drift off slowly. He finally comes up with something to be happy about: the fact that he has thrown up back in the bedroom so there is little chance he will be covered in his puke when he finally gets the fuck out of here.

***

Things stop moving and sudden silence wakes Tony up. Pain and weakness come rushing back as he comes out of the sleepy haze and he feels his heart sinking as his half-ass plan seems to have gone out of the window. 

This is definitely not Brooklyn.

He tries to think, to come up with a new plan, but his brain cells are busy panicking. He can’t see anything. He can’t really move and his right hand is unlikely to be able to maneuver any buttons and levers right now or anytime soon. He tries to shift a little but his back is apparently spasmed. It’s not even ironic that he can absolutely do nothing at this moment. He just waits. Waits and hopes for the best. 

He almost goes crazy waiting. Part of him wants the wait to never end, not looking forward to what will be next. The other part wants to get this over with. To peel the bandage off and deal with the bleeding and move on. He doesn’t know how long he circles in his mind going back and forth about how stupid he is to even be here. A second maybe, or five hours, but he finally hears some noise. There is an intense movement followed by violent pain all over his body, and for a second, he wishes he could simply disappear from the face of the earth, right in this moment, so he wouldn't have to go through with the rest of it. Then there is fresh air and a blinding light that moves a bit before it freezes on Tony’s face so Tony brings up his left hand that he can still move to shield his eyes. 

The light gets less intense and Tony can swear that he hears a muffled cry, as if it is coming from a covered mouth. He brings his hand down, finally able to see the full moon and a few stars in the night sky. He wants to sit up, get out and run away but he can’t even move to his side. He probably looks pathetic and the idea of being found like _this_ make his cheeks red with anger and shame. He doesn’t cry though. He can’t control his own fingers right now so he holds on to the last shred of his dignity and keeps the stupid tears off his face. 

Then, the light gets closer, this time not right into his eyes, and Tony can finally see the distinctive figure of the person holding the flashlight. Captain Rogers is still covering his mouth and the horror in his eyes is not comedic anymore.

***

Large hands slide under his body and strong arms take him out of the trunk slowly and gently. For a second, Tony thinks he might die from the humiliation of being so weak and so exposed. Among all the mortifying moments of his fucked-up life, which are quite a bit, being found curled up in the trunk of a car is probably the worst of the worst. He doesn't want to know what Captain Rogers is thinking as he presses Tony to his chest and walks around the car to put him down on the back seat. Tony tries to sit up straight but his stupid back doesn’t cooperate and he ends up stretching his legs along the seat and leaning against the side window. Captain Rogers kneels by his feet and looks at Tony with that same concerned look. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn’t seem to be able to get any words out. He runs his hands on the back of his neck and his lips twitch in frustration. He then stands up and, well, starts pacing around the car. 

Tony watches him the first few rounds as he shows up in the window and disappears. He then closes his eyes, listens to the wind in the empty road and wonders about what’s coming next. 

Captain Rogers seems nice. He seems to be passionate about the greater good and has been polite and considerate in the two ticks that Tony has known him. He is also an alpha; a top of the ranks, rich, handsome, and super strong alpha, and in Tony’s books, that can never be too promising. 

He will probably be gentle with Tony. He might even try to have a few words with Ty, seeing if he can forgive Tony or be easier on him. He will understand though. He has been there in that dining room with them when Tony has disrespected his alpha _like that,_ and there is no doubt in Tony’s mind that Captain Rogers will have no problems understanding how Ty has had no choice but to break Tony’s fingers. 

Obie understands. He always has, since the very first time Tony was admitted to UCLA Hospital with a concussion because _he was too clumsy to walk properly without tripping over and falling down the stairs_. He sat on Tony’s bed and was very gentle when he told Tony that he needs to be more respectful. That he needs to shut the fuck up, smile and never say no. That Tony was lucky to have Ty to take care of him and his company, and he should try to do better next time because Ty was all he had left after his parents' deaths. 

Captain Rogers is still pacing when Tony opens his eyes. His blood pressure is probably around zero and it would be the perfect time to pass out right as Captain Rogers finally takes the driver's seat and turns around to face him. It can't get any worse than this. It will just be over. 

Captain Rogers does not look gentle though. He does not look calm or compassionate and the smile he was wearing all night is gone. Clouds have mostly covered the moon and the car is dimly lit by the the car lamp, but Tony can’t be making this up. He can even smell the way his alpha scent has shifted from the gentle black tea to a sharp woodsy thing. Well, Tony can never tell the scents apart properly because he has been _too lazy to pay attention in homemaking class_. But he is not wrong now. Captain Rogers is absolutely and unmistakably angry.

He crosses his arms across his chest and then looks away, too quickly, because Tony must be looking miserable right now. He turns back to face the road and turns the key in the ignition. The car starts with a jittery heavy sound and Tony’s heart stops beating altogether. 

He should start talking now. He should reason or plead. He should even beg, although he never has before, because he just can’t go back. It's just not an option anymore. He has come so far, he is almost out, he can’t let it slip away like this. 

But Captain Rogers does not steer the wheel. He still looks furious and smells off but he doesn’t do a U-turn. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at Tony in the mirror, but he is not driving back to the house. Tony’s heart starts beating,so fast that his chest almost hurts with it. He has been on this road less than a handful of times and he is not sure if there is a better turning spot just ahead but he can’t see anything. He contemplates asking a fucking question, a smiple _where the hell are you going,_ but that seems too much of a far reach in this situation. Captain Rogers doesn’t seem to be taking Tony back to hand him over to Ty, at least not right now, and the hope of that never happening, is too sweet to tamper with. It’s stupid but part of him thinks that maybe if he doesn’t say anything, he might actually have enough time on the outside to get his hands on a phone and call Rhodey before Captain Rogers changes his mind.

The other part … is not that stupid. The other part is just a small beaten-up omega, and even smelling the huge angry alpha behind the wheel is enough for him to shut the fuck up.

***

It takes forever to get to Brooklyn; or at least much longer than Tony has expected. The back seat is way more comfortable than the trunk, and that’s a comparison no one should ever make, but Tony is still in as much pain and even more.

His back hurts. His nose hurts. His hands and his head hurt too. He is also light-headed and he has probably started shaking at one point because Captain Rogers stops the car to cover him with a blanket he pulled out of nowhere. It might be a precautionary measure, Tony thinks, to keep a light travel blanket handy in your car in case you rescue a random shaking omega from your trunk. The car has taken a few tries to turn back on and it’s running with a suspicious sound that Tony would have brought up if he has the energy to, or if he had been on talking grounds with Captain Rogers.

Right now, though, Tony is floating in a pain-induced haze. He has no mental capacity to worry about the fact that it’s been way more than 40 minutes since the phone call, that CaptainRogers has asked the girl on the other end and a few others to meet him at _the house_ in 40 minutes, but they are still driving in the middle of nowhere. Or that he is riding with a stranger on a road he does not recognize and he is about to meet a bunch of strangers who are going to be at Captain Rogers’ house and he just doesn’t care. He is in pain, can’t really breathe properly because of the pain, but he is also in a weird numb space, almost giddy that he is not going back to his house. There is a slight chance he might actually get killed tonight without a single being knowing of his whereabouts but that’s not even that bad. Tragic ending for Tony Stark, true, but for this very omega right here, eh … whatever. It will just be over. _Over._

He pulls the blanket up to his neck and looks out of the window as the buildings become more condensed. He is dizzy, lightheaded and the humming sound of the car and the rain are making him very, very sleepy. Then Captain Rogers turns the radio on and thank fuck, the most ridiculous love song of all time is playing.

 _Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_

Tony was once in love with this song. The idea of someone being in love with him, just the way he was, with all his curves and all his imperfections was once the most exhilarating concept in the world. The time when he still thought life could be easier and someone might actually like him for the dorky shit show he was. The days Ty would show up in Tony’s parents’ living room with a huge rose bouquet, and endless whispers praising Tony’s face, his body and his mind. The days he believed in love, literally. The days the idea of being loved was not so fucking ridiculous. 

_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you_  
_You're my end and my beginning_  
_Even when I lose I'm winning_  
_'Cause I give you all, all of me_  
_And you give me all, all of you_  


As if all it takes is to give your all to someone. As if Tony has not been doing so much of that for so fucking long he has absolutely nothing left to keep, let alone give anymore. Like you can be someone’s beginning and they can be your end, because you can’t.

 _How many times do I have to tell you_  
_Even when you're crying you're beautiful too_

Tony hates love songs. He hates the fact that they are full of hope and stupid surreal promises. He hates the way they make you feel warm and fuzzy all over and he hates the fact that they are cold outright lies. 

Love songs are stupid.  
And love is bullshit.

He might have said that out loud because Captain Rogers turns the radio off and Tony might be imagining it, or he might already be asleep and dreaming, but after the long and excruciating silence, Captain Rogers finally says something.

“I’m really sorry, Tony. I am really really sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving this a try, I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry it is really sad right now but I promise it gets better _eventually_.  
> This fic deals with emotional and physical abuse and systematic oppression of omegas. There is reference to abusive behavior and Tony is really hurt, physically at the beginning and emotionally during the rest. There is also reference to vomiting.  
> There is also Mpreg in the next chapters but it is not tagged to avoid spoilers.  
> Please feel free to ask me any question if you need before reading and let me know if you feel it is not tagged properly. 
> 
> The title of the fic and the chapters are from [Speechless song, Aladdin movie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mw5VIEIvuMI) by Naomi Scott.  
> The song referenced in this chapter is [All of me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg) by John Legend.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. <3  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	2. Swallowing Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [BuckyAboveEverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAboveEverything), babe I love you. I can't thank you enough for all your support and encouragement and the late-night beta, which I really and truly appreciate. <3<3  
> Tags are changed so please make sure you mind them before reading if you are worried about triggers. One tag is missing due to spoilers. Please refer to endnotes for more details before reading if you are concerned.

Tony can’t open his eyes. He can hear someone calling him and he wants to reply but he doesn’t have a voice. He goes in and out of darkness, as if he falls asleep and wakes up but he is somehow still asleep. He might be hallucinating but gentle words are whispered into his ear as he is held tight and wrapped in bergamot scent. He can’t quite grasp the meaning of the words but they make him feel a little less terrified. 

Unfamiliar voices are worried about him. Someone shouts something about hospitals and someone else shouts back about alpha consent. Overwhelming distressed scents fill his nose trails and he wants to open his eyes and say that he is okay before he goes into complete darkness again but he is just unable to. He can’t hear anything. He can’t feel anything. He is there but he is not at the same time and he wonders if this is it; if this is the end. 

This is not the end. A cold liquid feeling flows inside his veins and the drops push the darkness away inch by inch. Voices sharpen, scents detangle and light creeps through the darkness. Tony breathes and blinks and the first thing he sees is a blurry image of a red-haired omega who looks back at him and smiles with her whole face.

“He is awake. Bruce, he is awake.” 

Something stings around Tony’s forearm and starts beeping, so he turns, slowly, and looks at a beta with too-serious eyes behind round glasses, tapping on the source of the pressure. He sighs with relief as the beeping stops, smiles at Tony and his eyes don’t look so serious anymore.

“Good. Great. You got us worried for a second there, Tony.”

Tony blinks and watches the way a bit of color returns to Captain Rogers' face as he comes closer to take a look at the device. Fear and pain are blended in his eyes as he looks at Tony and he doesn’t even bother to fake a smile before he looks away. 

The guy with glasses, Bruce, unfastens what is actually the cuff of a blood pressure monitor and rolls Tony’s sleeve down. Tony looks at him, then at the bloody sleeve of his shirt and realizes that he is not wearing his jacket anymore. He is suddenly aware of the fact that he is too dusty and too bloody to be lying on a nice clean bed and a lump starts to build in his throat. 

He breathes again, blinks a few more times and then turns back to his other side. An alpha has his hands wrapped around the red-haired omega, so they must be Nat, as Captain Rogers called the girl on the phone and Clive…, no Clint, because he asked the girl, Nat, about this guy before he asked about Bruce and… Sam. Tony looks around the room and, well, another alpha is standing next to Captain Rogers. He whispers something, Captain Roger nods and then this other alpha, Sam, looks down at Tony and smiles. 

Tony wonders if there is a limit for a person’s humiliation. He’s been thinking about that all night, thinking this is it, this is the breaking point that he would come apart and stop existing but he has not. 

There is probably no limit. Tony would have hit that limit by now, with the horrified looks of the complete strangers around him, as if this, Tony, is the worst thing they have seen in their lives. Like it’s a very uncommon thing to see an omega in that condition, half-dead, weak and…; well Tony won’t cry. He can’t begin to crumble now. It’s fine. 

Clint places a gentle kiss on top of Nat’s hair. “Now that we won’t need to dispose of a dead body tonight, I’ll make some cookies to calm the nerves.” 

Nat’s voice is soft, _proper omega tone,_ and there is a calming ring to her words. “Please do. I am starving. I need cookies.” Clint kisses her hair again and then looks at Tony and his eyes smile. “We could all use some cookies. What is your favorite Tony?” 

This is not fair. Tony does not know which one is less fair though; the fact that such a simple question is too overwhelming because no one has made him cookies since Jarvis or the fact that he keeps swallowing around the stupid damn lump in his throat but can’t manage to get any words out. He tries to bring his hand up to run them over his face, but the right hand is no position to be used and the left one is wrapped in little fingers. Tony wonders if Nat’s just holding his hand to keep it in place because of the IV, but the sensation of someone actually holding his hand without pressing his fingers in some sort of stupid code is surreal.

Tony swallows again, and to his own surprise, he still has a voice. 

“Blueberries.” He sounds wrong and ragged, and considering the situation, this is an insanely ridiculous first thing to say to a bunch of new people who are worried for him, for no apparent reason, but someone is making cookies and he gets to choose blueberries. He can’t really smile but he can feel something warm running under his skin and he is not shivering anymore.

Clint nods and smiles at Tony again. He opens his arms and brushes both hands on Nat’s sides before putting them into his pocket. Nat turns her head and her face twitches into a smile. They look at each other for a fraction of a second before they both look back and Tony sees something there that looks a lot like a sparkle.

“Blueberries it is then.” and he nods to Tony again. “Sam? Any chance you can make some of your famous PBJ?” 

“You are not allergic to peanuts, Tony?” Tony turns and Sam’s face is as calming as his voice. He shakes his head and Sam taps on Captain Rogers’ shoulder a couple of times before he walks around the bed to stand next to Nat and Clint. “Strawberry jam? You should buy some blueberry jam, Steve.” 

And the three of them laugh as if the fact that Tony likes blueberries is now an inside joke. 

*** 

Bruce asks for a glass of sweetened water because the IV bag is only saline and Tony can now get sugar because he is awake and can confirm that he is not diabetic. Captain Rogers does not even look annoyed as he walks out to get the glass of water and Tony wonders if Brooklyn falls outside of the U.S. or if this house is some sort of magical wonderland because he has never dared to simply ask an alpha to _get some ice too._ Even Rhodey, who is the sun and the moon has never ever offered to make a peanut butter sandwich for Tony. He can’t be in wonderland though, or outside of the U.S. He is in too much pain and he can’t go to the hospital if he passes out again unless his alpha shows up miraculously.

“Your nose is not broken. The swelling and black eyes should subside in a few days.” Bruce’s tone is neutral and calm so Tony tries to focus on the facts _._ He would not need a nose surgery which is actually good news. A silver lining, some light in the darkest hour of the night. 

Nat’s face is not neutral and calm. Her hands are shaking as she unbuttons Tony’s shirt so Bruce can take a look at the bruises on Tony’s chest and back. She doesn’t flinch from the bruises and the fucking bloody shirt though. She grabs Tony’s hand when Bruce gently presses on Tony’s ribs and it’s surreal and Tony has never felt that way before but her face softens as Tony presses her hand back. 

He has a couple of fractured ribs so he will be in pain with every single breath for a while, which is nothing new. It has been so long since Tony’s chest has not hurt with every fucking breath.

Captain Rogers walks back in the room, with a bag of ice and a large glass of cloudy water, right as Nat is fastening the last button of Tony’s shirt. Tony is grateful. He prefers to either be found curled up in the trunk of a car _or_ be seen half-naked and covered in bruises. Not both in the same night. Both would be too mortifying. 

He hands the bag to Nat, walks around the bed and sits next to Bruce who is now examining Tony’s fingers. He gestures to Captain Rogers without looking up from Tony’s swollen fingers and a familiar shudder of fear runs through Tony's chest and stabs his heart. Captain Rogers cannot care less about the _disrespect_ though. He brings the glass up to Tony’s lips and his eyes are still pained and distressed but he is not looking gray anymore. 

“Here, I think you need to drink something sweet now. Doctor’s orders.” and for the first time since the minor incident in the damn living room back in Scarsdale, he smiles and it’s pathetic and stupid but apparently Tony’s heart is not too badly hurt for a flip flop. 

He opens his mouth, sips the too-sweet water and blames the sudden rush of glucose for the instant feeling of warmth and the heat that is most probably shading his cheeks pink. Nothing to do with the bergamot scent. Or the insanely calming smile. 

Nothing.

“I think we are really lucky tonight,” Bruce says as he finally looks up. “The fingers are not broken either. Just dislocated.” He gently touches a point in between Tony’s two middle fingers. “I am gonna give you a shot of Bupivacaine, here. It should be a very minor sting but the local anesthesia helps with the pain as I realign your fingers.”

Tony does not feel lucky. His shadow of a plan to survive the hour of bumping along the road to Brooklyn, sneaking out of the trunk and finding a phone to call Rhodey, as foolish as it seems right now, did not include this. Any of this. 

He is not ready yet. He just can’t, here, to these people, as nice as they seem and as worried as they are. He would choose a slow, painful death over saying the words for the first time and making it real in this situation if he could. But he can’t. As with every other fucking thing in his fucking stupid life, he doesn’t get to choose. Whatever the half-baked plan did or did not include does not really matter. All that matters is this invisible force that is driving him away from the hell he knows like the back of his hand into this new reality, foreign and unknown. 

“That… the shot… maybe … not a good idea. I don’t know… I could search and check but… well, probably not.” He keeps his gaze at the back of his hand for a second and then looks up at Bruce who is not looking at Tony’s hand anymore.

“What is the problem? You said you aren’t allergic to any medication,” Bruce asks with a frown and he sounds a lot like Jarvis calling Tony out for making up bullshit reasons for not having done his homework. 

The IV bag is almost empty now. He looks at Nat holding the ice bag instead of Tony’s hand and then back at Captain Rogers who is fiddling with the glass of water as if he is waiting for Bruce’s next gesture to make Tony drink some more of the sickening sweetness.

He wishes he could at least cover his face with one of his hands or slide a bit lower and hide under the light blue blanket that is still covering him under the white woolen throw, but then the thing, the force, the being tugs the inside of his lower belly and a wave of certainty runs up his chest and washes over his heart. 

He doesn’t hate this. He is not even ashamed of it. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. 

“Not allergic. I… I think… I am pregnant.” 

For a few long seconds, nothing moves. Tony wonders if he has imagined the words coming out of his mouth because no one blinks and no one breathes.Then in the blink of an eye, scents around him shift and a hypothetical storm starts pounding at the door. Nat reaches for his hand, holds it in both of hers and whispers something that Tony can’t hear. Something is being shattered on the other side of the bed, so Tony turns back to his right and for a second his brain cannot find the relation between the image, the sound and the concept. Then the storm slams the door open, his blood starts to freeze and his brain can finally process what’s happening right in front of him. 

There is a trail of red dotting the white carpet between the bed where Captain Rogers was sitting three seconds ago and where he is standing now, across the room with his back pushed against the wall, as if trying to get further away or just out of the room through it. 

Tony can see it now. 

Captain Rogers’ face is dark gray and as much as it looks like it, what’s pouring down from his clenched fist is not rain. It’s sugary water and a thousand pieces of shattered glass. 

***

Captain Rogers refuses to have Bruce look at his bleeding hand. He keeps saying that it will be okay tomorrow, and to Tony’s horror, everyone seems to believe him. He grabs a towel from a drawer and no one even blinks at the growing blood stain when he sits back on the bed with the towel clutched in his hand. 

Tony is too shocked to even be shaking right now.

He nods to Bruce. He either needs to have his fingers realigned without any anesthesia or have them realigned… well without anesthesia. It’s not safe to wait anymore and as far as Bruce is concerned, access to a different drug might not be that easy. So he nods, pretending it’s his choice to go through the torture. It’s not like Tony is not familiar with pain anyway; it can’t hurt any more than when they were being dislocated.

Tony cries out loud and digs his nails into Captain Rogers’ forearm; not once but twice. Nat’s fingers draw gentle soothing circles on his back and wipe his tears before anyone can see them as Bruce realigns each finger before splinting each one to the one next to it. And it might be the sweat drops on Bruce’s forehead or the way Captain Rogers’ scent is all wood and leaf again or maybe he just feels the pain more drastically, now that he doesn’t fear for his life, but despite many deep breaths and all his efforts to stay calm, this hurts more. Much, much more. 

***

Tony is too weak to take a shower now, or at least that’s what Captain Rogers thinks so Nat disappears into the bathroom to get some wet towels to help Tony clean up. Captain Rogers helps Tony off the bed and onto the couch and puts the ice bag on his fingers before covering him with the blue blanket. Bruce strips the dirty sheets from the bed and Clint leaves the plate of actual blueberry cookies on the arm of the couch. Sam pokes his head into the room _just to check on everybody_ and for the love of God… winks at Tony. 

Part of Tony is mesmerized by the way they seem to fit together, like perfectly oiled parts of a hypothetical machine. The other part though is still shocked and shaken by the way Captain Rogers has crushed a glass in his bare hands and does not even need a fucking band-aid. 

“Tony needs a change of clothes.” Nat twitches her lips when she smiles. It’s reassuring and calm and takes Tony’s mind off the true meaning of her words, at least for a little bit. 

“You want me to go to Walmart?” Clint holds Nat’s fingers in his hands when he is talking to her. Tony looks at him and then back at her but he can’t see any signs or codes in the touch. Tony doesn’t buy it though; he is too tired to trust his own observation.

“It’s too late, babe. He might be asleep by the time you come back. I might have a few things lying around here somewhere … but I don’t imagine Tony fancies wearing my floral summer dress.” And she smiles again. 

“I’ll get him something to change into for tonight. We can get anything he needs tomorrow.” Captain Rogers’ voice is low and deep. Tony is tired, dizzy and extremely hormonal so he can blame the way his eyes dart around the room to follow Captain Rogers stepping out on his stupid omega brain. The way Captain Rogers is blushing right before he turns to get out of the door though, can’t really be Tony’s brain shenanigans. It’s not even that uncommon anyway, alphas loving to mark omegas as their property despite the circumstances, it’s just the fact that he did not even get a say in it, because everyone is pretending that he does not exist, or worse, is incapable of making a stupid fucking decision. 

Then Captain Rogers shows up at the door, still blushing, as he ducks his head and hands a pile of neatly folded clothes to Nat without so much as looking at Tony and suddenly the concept of wearing _this alpha’s_ clothes is not that humiliating anymore.

***

He doesn’t get embarrassed this time when Nat helps him take his shirt off or when she unzips the stained cream pants and pulls it down while Tony struggles to keep his weight off the couch. He should be burning in shame, or turning red in the face as Nat does just right now before she turns her head to look at something non-existent on the wall behind her, but he doesn’t. He pulls down his briefs and slides into Captain Rogers’ boxers because in the past six weeks he’s been leaking more than during any of his heats and does not even blush about the fact that Captain Rogers has decided to lend him a pair of crimson red boxers. 

He is numb. 

Nat helps with putting on the white Army shirt that is suspiciously small but still too large for Tony that the neckline hangs off one of his shoulders. She also pulls and ties the string of the charcoal sweatpants as tightly as possible but Tony has to hold on to keep them on anyway. 

She tucks him in, turns the night light on and puts a glass of water next to the half-eaten plate of cookies on the nightstand. She then smiles and kisses Tony’s cheek before she walks out, leaving the door open so Tony can call out if he needs anything. 

Tony might have used up his mortification allowance for one day, or one lifetime, but he is grateful that he can still feel the warmth that starts from his cheek and spreads over his face, onto his chest and all the way to his toes. 

***

The room is calm and quiet. The sheets feel soft and Tony is not cold but he just can’t fall asleep. Part of him wants to blame the pain and over exhaustion for the restlessness. The other part though is terrified to realize that right at this moment, he just misses Ty. 

Ty is always gentle when he takes Tony’s clothes off and helps him get into the shower. He is extra careful not to touch any sore spots as he dries Tony and kisses all the red and purple spots he finds along the way as he dresses him. He puts Tony in bed and covers him with the fucking gray duvet and cuddles him to sleep. He says how sorry he is, how much he wishes he did not have to do this and how much he loves Tony. And it’s not like that Tony doesn’t try because he absolutely does. He might be _a fucking whore_ and extremely emotional at that point but he has been through this mill enough times to know that this is part of the same play anyway. It’s excruciatingly hard though; for Tony not to lean into his touch, not to breathe in his remorse and not to wipe his tears away. Tony needs this to stay sane. He just so desperately needs to believe him. 

Tonight, however, Ty does not get to close the loop or complete the cycle or whatever made-up psychological shit terms he loves to use to theorize what he does and part of Tony is thrilled by this minor victory. The other part, however, is too tired to win anything. He just wants to close his eyes, lay his head on Ty’s chest and fall asleep. 

***

Tony is still wide awake when Captain Rogers shows up at the door and knocks as if Tony gets a choice to let him in or not. 

He is still wearing his white shirt and black pants but he has gotten rid of his shoes and socks and, well, even his feet are A-class alpha material.

Captain Rogers leaves a plate with a couple of sandwiches on the nightstand and sits down on the couch. He rolls up his sleeves and Tony’s eyes wander on the golden hair shining on the pale skin before he moves on to look at the tiny bloodstains on the white shirt and he wonders if it’s too late to soak the shirt and he would need to spray hydrogen peroxide on them.

Captain Rogers fidgets and rubs his temple a little, then sits back, crosses his legs and does nothing.

Tony wonders if there would be a speech, or questions, or even some compassionate and motivating words. He even contemplates telling Captain Rogers that he is not in the mood for talking or listening right now, but he is not up for pissing another alpha off; not tonight anyway.

Tony waits for what seems to be an eternity and then closes his eyes when he can’t seem to keep them open anymore. He waits a little more with his eyes shut listening to the rhythm of Captain Rogers’ ridiculously deep breaths before he drifts off and he is not entirely sure but at some point, there is a gentle brush of fingers on his hair and a whispering voice that might be saying something, or singing a song.

_I'll keep you safe  
Try hard to concentrate  
Hold out your hand  
Can you feel the weight of it  
The whole world at your fingertips  
Don't be, don't be afraid  
Our mistakes they were bound to be made  
But I promise you I'll keep you safe  
You'll be an architect  
So pull up your sleeves  
And build a new silhouette  
In the skylines up ahead  
Don't be, don't be afraid  
Our mistakes they were bound to be made  
But I promise you I'll keep you safe  
I'll keep you safe_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> I am sorry it is still sad and the abuse is more graphic. I wish I could say I have made this all up an none of this happens in real life but unfortunately, that would not be true :( I promise things will get better slowly and there would definitely be a happy ending. 
> 
> \--- Spoilers ahead :) ----  
> This chapter has mpreg which is not tagged for spoiler reasons. No description of pregnancy really, just the fact that Tony is pregnant. There is mention of blood and injuries and I don't think they are too graphic but definitely a little graphic. There is description of emotional abusive behavior but in the form of honeymoon phase of the abusive cycle as in Ty being nice to Tony after he has been physically abusive.  
> There is also mentions of heats and body fluids but like once.  
> \----------------------  
> Please let me know if you think I missing a tag or something needs to be tagged differently.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I will do my best to post the next chapter mid Jan ( and it's not because I am taking a break, because I will be writing a holiday fic based on the movie [Family Man](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0218967/), so feel free to subscribe to read it sometime before new year :) )
> 
> The song at the end is[ I'll keep you safe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjIxn_NmVS0) by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	3. Let the Storm In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while right? I'm super sorry for what I can't even call delay 🙈 
> 
> It's just so hard to write this fic and honestly if it wasn't for the asks and comments and all the enthusiasm I got from you lovely people I would have given up on this long long ago. 
> 
> But hey, here we are 😊 and I'm planning to post with way less delay, fingers crossed 😅
> 
> Thank you soooooo much to bae and sesh for cheer and beta, guys you rock, you're the best I appreciate you so so much!!!
> 
> And a huge shout out to people on [ POTS Stony discord server ](https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS)for listening to my constant whining for over a year!
> 
> Please mind the added tags and for spoilery warnings please take a look at the end note.

It’s still dark outside.

The dim glow of the table lamp does not extend inside the bathroom and feeling for the switch on the wall behind through the blinding pain in his ribcage is a damn struggle. He tries to breathe through the pain, but the air refuses to go in and hurts to come out, and he leans against the door to brace himself for what’s hidden in the dark.

He stares at the mirror as the light comes on, but he can’t quite recognize the omega who’s looking back at him. No one’s eyes could possibly be that lifeless and God, that face cannot belong to him, no chance in hell, because Tony’s skin is never that pale, even when he _forgets_ to put on foundation. With dark bruises blackening his eyes and spreading down his cheeks, he looks more like what’s-his-face in fight club, although a little less masculine and with slightly narrower shoulders. As bruised and broken as he’s been before, Tony has never looked like this.

The reflection in the mirror is not his. 

This thing cannot be him.

For the long seconds that follow, Tony wonders if he’d ever known how to breathe, if he’d ever managed to close his eyes to not see, or move his fingers to turn on the water and splash some sanity onto his face. He doesn’t know if there ever was a path to move on from this second into the next. If he remembers how to be; to exist.

He doesn’t know.

It’s all coming back blank.

The world starts to spin and the floor ceases to be solid. He’s folding, falling, dying maybe. It will be hours before someone comes looking for him, and there are some perks to being dead, like not having to think about the pathetic image that he would make lying on the bathroom floor. Bruised, foul and filthy; a perfect reflection of who he’s ended up as. 

“Oh God,” someone says, alarmed and hoarse, and a solid strength that wraps around his body hurts but keeps him steady on his feet. “Breathe,” the voice commands and air flows into Tony’s lungs as he listens to a presence who inhales deep and exhales long and slow. “You’re okay,” comes a whisper, and the will to live creeps back under Tony’s skin. “It’ll be fine.” The faintest hope flickers in his chest, that the next moment might be better than the one before, the slightest bit, as cold drops of water bring him out of the deep end and ease him into awareness.

“Sit here.” 

Tony blinks and vague colors turn into Captain Rogers’s big blue eyes, filled with something that Tony can’t remember the name of. The lines of his face detangle and open up into a smile, and the scent of freshly baked bread fills Tony’s nose as the bed becomes solid under him and the world stops rocking back and forth.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, just wait here, okay?”

Like he can move an inch from here, Tony thinks, as the scent and the colors and the deep gentle voice fade. Like he’s got an ounce of power left to lift a finger, even if he tries his best. He’s just empty, like a wrinkled deflated balloon, a voide, like a small piece of nothing inside a battered shell. 

***

“Mr Murdock’s the best in the field.” 

Captain Rogers kneels on the floor and brings the glass to Tony’s mouth. He’s changed since last night, dim gray sweatpants with a white T-shirt just like the one Tony’s wearing now that doesn’t say ARMY on the front, and he doesn't seem to have had a second to run a hand through his hair before rushing out of his bedroom. 

“We called him last night.” He nods and Tony parts his lips. “And he’s agreed to help,” he adds, lifting the glass just enough to allow a steady stream into Tony’s mouth. The sweetness bursts over his tongue and flows into his veins; the magic of feeding sugar water to a butterfly, like Jarvis used to do when Tony would run into the kitchen with one he’d found around the garden with broken wings. “He’ll be here…” Captain Rogers takes the glass away, sits back on his heels, and flicks his wrist to look at the StarkWatch that was there last night, but is gone now. “Sometime…” he says, and stands up to put the glass back on the nightstand, “...soon. He’ll be here soon.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, awkwardly straight, and Tony’s heart starts to shake in his chest. The warmth spreads under his skin, spilling into his head and his thoughts race one another, so fast that it’s impossible to collect and rearrange them in order. Mr. Murdock is the best in the field of runaway omegas, apparently, and he’ll be here _sometime soon_ , as a random person who seems to be all Tony’s got right this moment, has asked for his help. This flawless alpha who’s sitting too close, smelling like a bakery, who has called and discussed the situation with the best lawyer out there, ‘ _I’ve picked up a beaten up omega on my way back from Scarsdale last night’,_ and Mr. Murdock is on his way over here to help. 

What is it that he can help with? A lot, or very little, depending on who asks and the angle they’ll look from but Tony’s still a little too hazy to figure that out. It’s all a lot, too much, and he’s too fucking overwhelmed to grasp anything at the moment. 

“Feeling better?” Captain Rogers asks, and leans forward a little. “Do you need anything?” He’s clutching his knees and Tony watches as his knuckles go white, before tracing the trail of tiny red dots on the carpet and looking back at his own lap. Does it mean he’s feeling better if he can move his bare toes now? Or if he can finally move his fingers to trace the blue bandage? The ability to breathe even struggling with pain, while he’s supposed to be suffocating, or the fact that he still exists, despite all odds, that he’s still here, and miles away from Ty, does any of that count? 

Being able to think again should count, Tony tells himself as he wraps his good hand around his broken fingers. He nods, and lifts his chin, as something squeezes low in his belly and a tiny spasm flutters deep inside. He can see it vividly now, what he needs exactly, what he’s been waiting for since he stumbled down the stairs and into the front yard last night, what he’s wanted to do every day and every night, every single second of the past six months that’s he’s spent in between those walls he hates to call home.

“I want to call my friend,” he says, his voice breaking halfway and he coughs, but he _is_ feeling better, that’s for sure, because despite the rush of fear that makes his toes go numb and the hair on his neck stand on end, he’s ready for what inevitably comes when he dares to answer a question with something other than the exactly expected. 

“A friend?”

Tony’s head feels a bit heavy, and his mouth is really dry. “Lieutenant James Rhodes, he’s my—” 

Captain Rogers tilts his head to the side and the corner of his lips twitches. _I don’t want you to say his name, even inside your little brain,_ echoes in Tony’s head as his heart starts to beat in his throat and he wishes so hard that he could just turn the time back to when he’d not just told a complete stranger that he has a friend so close that he wants to call right now, who happens to be an alpha. Tony keeps Captain Rogers’s gaze though, because there is no turning back, hasn’t been since last night when the complete stranger opened the trunk, and it doesn’t matter if Tony can’t figure out Captain Rogers’s expression as he stands up and walks a step forward to stand in front of Tony. 

It’s fine. 

It’s not like anyone can hurt him more than he already is. 

No one yells though. No blows come out of nowhere. The swish in the air is not a hand being raised, it’s just a phone being fished out of a pocket, but Tony can’t help but flinch when Captain Rogers holds the phone out to him.

“Of course.” He smiles, so that’s what lips thinly pressed together and narrow eyes can also mean, and Tony does his best to smile back, blaming his painful cheeks for the way the tears well up in his eyes. 

Tony’s holding a phone, an old brick by Oscorp, with the dial pad button somewhere so obscure that takes him a few seconds to find, but it’s a phone, a damn real unlocked and connected phone, that he can use to call Rhodey after what feels like two whole lifetimes. 

That’s all that matters, really, and who cares if Captain Rogers walks a couple of steps backwards, sits back on the edge of the bed and continues to watch Tony with that very same shiny smile. 

***

Things are swimming around Tony.

He can’t process the data going around, between Mr. Murdock typing at his laptop and Captain Rogers who’s taking ages making food at the stovetop. Not that Tony hasn’t tried to be prepared and gather the information that would come in handy on a day like this, because he had, so many times and in so many ways that thinking about it makes his chest tighten. It’s been all he would be doing every chance he’d get. How many useless escape plans had he made? How many hours had he spent reading through California laws and browsing countless posts on omega forums on the dark web? How many hopes had he crushed when things kept falling through, one after the other, after the other?

Countless, his brain provides dutifully and his eyes start to prickle. He’d broken his own heart as many times - and his forearm, once, but that one was entirely his own fault, blurting out the name of an underground omega rights group, and being too unsteady to fall on his hands with just a little push from behind. The shit storm that had followed through weeks of torment and pain, or what he thought was a shit storm at the time, but was just playful banter compared to… well, all of this.

It’s just that it would never have occurred to six-months-ago Tony, that he would need to figure out his next move while surrounded by strangers, holding on to the waistband of pants that could fit three people his size comfortably, desperate for a shower, and in the state of New fucking York out of all places in the world. 

He will just have to breathe though, and swallow around the growing lump in his throat. Because he is not going to cry. He can’t let go now; he just can’t start to crumble. 

“Right, Tony?” 

Tony looks up, so quickly that a stabbing pain cuts through his back, and he blinks at Mr. Murdock. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to be right, obviously, because he’s been lost inside his _little omega head_ once again, too deep that his usual ‘mental replay and remember function’ is not working either. He tries to guess what the question might have been, and watches Captain Rogers's back muscles flex through the ridiculously tight t-shirt - which means the alpha is a hundred sizes larger than him - as he turns to look over his shoulder. He doesn’t look angry, Tony thinks, his heart starting to race already, but he didn’t look angry last night when he shattered a tall glass with his bare hands either. It’s not like Tony has ever been a good judge when it comes to an alpha’s instant mood change, as much as he has tried over the years, and he can’t fool himself to think that the alphas are too concerned with his genuine answer to what seems to be a rhetorical question anyway.

“Yes,” he finally says, his voice too shaky, his heart racing in his chest. Captain Rogers raises an eyebrow, just a little, and Tony’s heart stops to beat and drops to his feet. He nods then and his lips twitch into what might be the tiniest smile in the history of smiles and Tony’s heart starts to beat in his chest.

“So, what are his options?” Captain Rogers sits back on the chair at the head of the kitchen table, pushes Tony’s plate toward him, and smiles. No questions. No spoken commands. _Sit. Eat. Read what’s expected of you and fucking do it._ Tony sure can do that. He’s had a bit too much practice anyway.

“We’ll file an urgent application and considering the extent of the abuse, we should be able to get a temporary bond removal order with no issues,” Mr. Murdock says matter-of-factly, and types something down. “We don’t have to go through months of expensive hearings like many other states, thanks to The Nebula’s Act.”

Tony takes a bite of the bread and stabs one of the boiled eggs with his fork. Words can look plain white with a shade of gray, but pull them apart and you will find a dull yellow crumbly ball inside. _Months_ o _f hearings_ is not just too many days spent in court corridors but it also means a growing bump that will get harder and harder to cover up, leading to Ty finding out and exercising his power about his child's living arrangements, before any hearing can come to any conclusion. Or _expensive hearings_ that cost an arm an a leg, definitely, which someone has to pay for at some stage; it’s just that the person can’t be Tony by any means, as his arms and legs are completely useless and he has exactly zero cents in the pockets of his beige bloody pants, crumpled on top of his bloody jacket by the foot of the bed, in the bedroom upstairs.

Tony swallows another half-egg and shoves some tomato on top. He knows for a fact that no such act existed in any state when he still had access to free internet, and other than the rare common practices in Vermont and Massachusetts, no courts had processes in place to grant temporary relief of bond duties for omegas urgently. Will he get sick if he takes one sip of the hot chocolate? The idea of warm milk makes his insides twist, but it’s not an easy decision to pick between disappointing an alpha who’s gone into trouble of making hot chocolate in a pot just for Tony - the grownups are having coffee, of course - or keep what’s in his stomach right where it is. He stares at Captain Rogers’s long fingers unwrapping another granola bar and dipping it into his coffee mug, and does his absolute best not to come up with too many vivid images of the events that must have happened to Nebula over the past year, so fucking horrifying to have made alpha-dominated bodies of legislators even consider passing a bill named after an omega. Photos of graphic injuries perhaps, he thinks anyway, or recordings of a terrified voice in multiple 911 calls, her friends’ testimonies - if she had any friends left - or stories by her devastated family believing her finally when it was too late to do anything at all. Captain Rogers’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down and Tony wraps his fingers around his mug. He can’t think about this anymore - he just can’t go lower in this hole - so he might as well drink some hot chocolate for the first time in ten years, and focus on keeping it down instead of heart wrenching speculations about this other omega’s pain and despair.

“With Tony’s parents gone, the state of New York will automatically become his legal guardian after the court’s order, and the first matter it will have to resolve is the omega’s living arrangements. Friends and relatives are not even considered when it comes to providing temporary residence.” Mr. Murdock pauses to run his fingers over his Braille reader terminal which seems to be more advanced than what Tony had once designed as part of SI’s initial proposal for developing disability aids for the California Department of Education. The days where Tony would sit at his desk in the corner of R&D department, and had a StarkBook that he thought no one had the password to. It’s a shame they never put the proposal forward, as Obie had convinced Ty that there was no point wasting so many resources on _making toys for blind students_ because of course, optimizing guns that could kill them was far more profitable.

“The court will place him in one of the omega welfare centres across the state, for however long it takes for the domestic violence case to be finalized.” Which could take years, Tony knows for a fact, if it ever gets there when the alpha is reluctant, unlike an alpha-initiated unbonding that takes exactly 10 days in most courts across California. “The centers are in desperate need of an upgrade but never get priority in the state budget for obvious reasons. Some are remote, some don’t have proper security.” He runs his fingers on the Braille display again, still facing Tony and his lips turn into a sad smile. “There have been a few cases of omegas being taken from these centers. One of my clients ended up dropping all charges a couple of days after _returning voluntarily._ ” 

He turns to Captain Rogers, who’s watching Mr. Murdock with wide eyes, one hand frozen in the air with his half-eaten, god-knows-how-manyth granola bar. “So you’re telling me that his best option is not going to court?”

Mr. Murdock takes his dark glasses off and sits back in his chair. “No.” He rubs his eyes, and runs his hands over his face. “If Mr. Stone files a missing omega report, before we file for the temporary relief, things get… complicated. If the police get involved, we might need to turn him in, losing any kind of leverage we have now, since his alpha has not filed a report yet, for whatever reason.”

Tony takes another sip of his hot chocolate, as his eyes wander between the two alphas, who refuse to look at him at the moment. He is fairly certain of the reason Ty has yet to file a missing omega report - a bunch of Stark Industries legal and PR people huddling around the breakfast table, advising him to keep it quiet for now, while the entire security team combs through every single contact traced to Tony’s small group friends who might have anything to do with his disappearance; people who work for a company that’s Tony’s legal property, paid with his money that he himself cannot access, helping Ty make Tony’s life a little more miserable once again.

They’re all too dumb, and Ty’s just too arrogant, to acknowledge that there are no elaborate plots going on; to admit that Captain Rogers’s Camaro is the only vehicle that left the house last night and as much as it might hurt Ty’s ego and the company’s image, Tony being here at this kitchen table is the only logical answer to the mystery they’re desperate to solve. 

Knowing that, however, doesn’t stop Tony from picturing Ty at the threshold of this floor of Captain Rogers's house, all smiles and charming, assuring everyone in the room that _nothing like this will ever happen again,_ like that time in Malibu police station. His fingers still go cold at the thought, his spine prickling in terror, but he can count the small apple pie prints on the mug to calm his nerves and drink a little more of the hot chocolate to warm up his shuddering inside, because he can’t fall apart.

Not just yet. 

“But that’s not right.” Captain Rogers looks at Tony, finally, and narrows his eyes. “What should an omega in Tony’s situation do?”

Omegas in Tony’s situation can disappear one day, Tony thinks, like ‘OneMatchExplosion’ from the forum, who never updated his status after that last message, ‘I’m terrified for my safety’. They can also end up in prison with a life sentence, like ‘kissed_by_a_fist’, when her efforts to stop her alpha from hurting her had gone horribly wrong. 

Tony shoves the rest of the eggs inside his mouth and drinks what’s left in the mug, like a good omega, even if it’s too hard to swallow around the lump that doesn’t go down with food or drink. 

Omegas in Tony’s situation can die, like Nebula herself, and have their names slapped onto an act in return, that’s practically unable to change anything, anyway.

***

Captain Rogers is as patient on the way back up to the bedroom as he was on the way down earlier in the morning.

“This might be the earliest I’ve been to Macy’s”, Nat says cheerfully from behind and Captain Rogers turns over his other shoulder to look at her. “And the quickest according to Clint, because he was still waiting in the coffee line when I got out,” she huffs, and the large shopping bags she’s carrying rustle a bit. 

“ya’ sure he was not getting his second one?” 

“You’re so funny haha,” she mocks and then laughs for real, and Tony’s heart drops, with the usual rush of panic that runs through his body, everytime an alpha is disrespected - which seems to happen a lot around here. Captain Rogers is still laughing though, as he turns back to smile at Tony, and their soft scents mixed together eases Tony’s nerves a little.

It’s a miss this time, thank God, but there of course will be a hit. There will always be a hit, Tony knows so God damn well, and it’s why he doesn’t smile back. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that his face is too sore or the way Captain Rogers tightens his grip around his waist, right as Tony fails to bite back a painful moan. It’s just precaution. Just a general rule of safety for any omega who knows how to use the God-given half-working brain properly. 

***

Nat helps Tony take a shower.

Her soft hands are gentle on Tony’s body, and she smells like a meadow. She doesn’t seem to care about getting water all over her white dress and if Tony’s a smelly mess, she doesn’t seem to flinch or scrunch up her nose. 

Tony hisses under the slight pressure of water and closes his eyes to let the sudden wave of nausea settle as blood from who knows where taints the water running under his feet. There is no modesty, no shame, not even a shred of dignity. There is push and pull of pain instead, and tears that are getting washed down the drain so they can both pretend they don’t exist. 

Hazy and lightheaded, Tony does his best to cooperate as Nat pulls a shirt over his head and a pair of pants up his thighs. “Blue does look good on you,” she says, fastens the shirt’s lapel button and takes a step back. “It shouldn’t be a surprise, right? People pay millions to buy Steve’s taste in color combination on the canvas, so of course if he says soft blue shirt and navy jeans, that _would_ be the best combination.” Her face lights up in a smile and she shakes her head fondly. “When he gets ready for an event though, _I_ am the poor assistant who has to be here prying clothes out of his iron fists, because he thinks it’s okay to wear a tan suit and a light green shirt to the Columbia Children’s Hospital Christmas Gala.”

She shakes her head again as she takes a smaller bag out of one of the shopping bags and Tony thinks about the blood stains on a proper-for-a-private-dinner white shirt last night to distract himself from the fact that Captain Rogers had asked Nat to buy clothes for Tony in specific colors. Or the fact that he had remembered to ask for underwear and socks too, and everything else in the small bag that Nat’s unloading on the dressing table right now, written down on the piece of paper that she’s just dropped on Tony’s lap. It’s nothing special really, just a neatly handwritten list with smooth letters that are exactly the same size, so there is no reason for this stupid heat that's suddenly spreading over his chest and that weird sensation that's unexpectedly tingling the back of his neck. He doesn't the spoons - even a plastic teaspoon - for feeling weird about a fucking note, no, just no, so he crumples the paper and shoves it in his pocket, so he can throw it in the bathroom rubbish bin as soon as he can stand up.

“Look at all these swirly curls! Why would you hide this adorable mess?” Nat chuckles as she finally finishes brushing Tony’s hair. He could’ve done it himself, most probably, but it’s not a common occurrence for Tony to have someone brush his hair. It’s nice to be indulged like this, despite the constant swirl of shame in his belly, to have the luxury of a tender touch without an agenda. “No hair products on the list, sorry.” She puts the brush back on the dresser and turns back to Tony. “You have to leave these pretty things out to the public eye for a little while,” she says and covers Tony with a white blanket before curling up next to him on the couch.

It’s so easy to get used to this.

The white blanket smells like mild detergent, and feels like the nights that his parents were away on a trip, and Jarvis would let him fall asleep in his and Ana’s bed. It’s warm, like the time life was not a tangled mess of pain and tiptoeing around, comforting like the herbal aroma of the liquid in the cup that Nat brings up to his lips. Safe, like the air in this room, the natural wood furniture and the white sheets, abundance of light that spills in from these large curtainless window. 

Jarvis was not Tony’s dad, though, and Nat, this room, this whole fantasy island where he’s magically landed, does not belong to him. Captain Rogers, as charitable and decent as he might be, is not Tony’s friend; he’s an alpha, who has no fucking reason to be in Tony’s corner. 

Getting to Rhodey has been a constant part of his plan so much that coming up with an alternative in which Rhodey’s away on tour, and unreachable for three months is just impossible. With Pepper working for SI and being probably interrogated by security right this second Tony's left with no options, legal or illegal, and with no money and no one else to turn to, he has no clue, whatsoever of what he should do. 

He can’t stay here. 

He has nowhere else to go. 

The sugar water had not saved that tiny red and gold butterfly with a torn wing that cold spring morning all those years ago, and even Jarvis is not around anymore to hold Tony in his arms so he can at least cry for failing to find a way to save his not-yet-born but already too-badly-hurt butterfly.

Tony's an A-class loser.

All of this is another spectacular failure. 

The loud thud of the door slamming open startles them both and Nat jumps to her feet, still clutching Tony’s hand, holding it awkwardly in the air. Tony’s heart drops to his feet, as Captain Rogers _runs_ into the room, beating so fast that it feels like a minor earthquake inside his ribs. 

Something changes in the air as soon as he sets his eyes on Tony, though, and a hint of a smile lingers on the corner of his lips. He enjoys the look of his colors on me, Tony muses and a rush of relief washes him over like a warm summer breeze. It’s completely obvious, the sparkle shining in his eyes, and Tony’s heart does a tiny flip, his stomach churning at the same time, because God, it’s so bad to feel this good about being the reason for that sparkle, that hint of a smile; it’s perfect and horrible, so overwhelming that he wants to cry.

Captain Rogers pulls the stone face mask he’d rushed into the room with back down and Nat’s fingers around Tony’s tighten a little. Tony presses his thumb to the back of her palm, stroking gently and Nat brings her other hand to wrap around their intertwined fingers. An unspoken message that apparently calms them both, that they’re okay, they’re safe, that alphas scaring them even when they don’t mean to is nothing to worry too much about.

“Nat, go to the gallery and take over the final prep for the show tomorrow because we can’t possibly mess with that and get Clint to come to Brooklyn Family Court ASAP as I might need him there as a witness.” 

Nat gives Tony’s hand one last squeeze, before she lets go. She blinks and smiles at Tony before turning away, and she straightens her back, looking so different suddenly “Copy that,” she says firmly, “do you need a hand with Tony?”

Captain Rogers shakes his head, his eyes fixed on Tony, and reaches out so Tony can grab his hand. “Tony’s with me. I’ve got him.” 

***

The world is spinning.

It feels like being seasick while sailing in his dad’s yacht in the ocean, or that tractor ride in the valley on his seventh birthday. The car is shaking too much, and Tony’s head is swimming frantically, without reaching anywhere to hold on to, to stop, to take a breath. 

It might be the tiny pill that Bruce had dropped off while Tony was in the shower upstairs, that’s made his brain a little fuzzy, or the fact that the pill had to be taken with food and the waves of nausea have not stopped after all that methodical effort to down crackers and stinky pieces of horrible hard cheese. 

Having stopped behind a red light, for the seven hundredth time, Captain Rogers turns the volume of the radio down before turning it off. The radio is vintage, original 1968, and dreaming about disassembling it must be the only tolerable thing about sitting in the front seat. In the back seat, if it wasn’t dusty and blood stained, he could’ve at least laid his head against the window and let the car movements lull him asleep. He could’ve let things take their course without being compelled to have a say; without pretending that his opinion really matters. 

“If I had more time,” Captain Rogers says and puts his hands back on the steering wheel, “I could’ve hired a team of lawyers to spend hundreds of hours.” He glances at Tony quickly before focusing back on the road. “But I don’t think they could’ve come up with something better, if they did come up with anything at all.”

_If it's the end of the world_  
_I'm going down fighting_  
_With my finger on the trigger_  
_You'll know I gave it a shot_

What would happen if he asked for the car to be stopped? To take a walk to breathe fresh air, assuming he can stand on his feet? Would Captain Rogers be one of those alphas who get antsy when someone touches the window handle?

“But if this works, and it will, I have no doubt, then you’ll be free to work with that team of lawyers that I’ll hire to get you out for good. It’s all I’m trying to do, just give you a fighting chance.”

Tony stares at him for a few seconds. 

The last thing he wants in this world is to throw up - and ruin Captain Rogers’s front seat like the back - so he closes his eyes and tries to listen to the blend of emotions in the artist’s voice at least for a few seconds. The concept of freedom, as familiar as it must be for this 200 lbs of alpha perfection, is so distant for Tony - who hates himself for not daring to touch the stupid window crank handle - that he never even allows himself to dream of it. He just can’t think about a shadow of it without getting worked up, and he needs a minute, or a few before he can open his eyes, and his mouth to ask any questions. 

_If it's the end of it all_  
_God knows I'm trying_  
_Cause this world_  
_Is all that we got_

“How?” he asks, his voice too small, despite the fact that his insides are somehow boiling with what felt like liquid fire. “How—” And there is no sound coming out of his throat anymore, as the fire might have burnt his throat altogether. 

Captain Rogers doesn’t take his eyes off the cars moving so very slowly in front of them. “I promise you, that if something goes wrong, I’ll pull whatever I can to make sure you won’t spend even one night anywhere else. But we have to try this first.” 

Tony runs his good hand in his hair. What is there to pull, with so much certainty?

_If the city's on fire_  
_I'll stand in the ashes_  
_There's no turning back_  
_It's ready or not_

Captain Rogers opens his mouth and closes it as the traffic clears up, like every single thing perfectly timed in Tony’s life has ever been. He shakes his head, and something shifts, so clearly that Tony feels like he can see it in the air, and it throws him, like he’s been punched in the gut again, but it doesn’t hurt, it’s thrilling even, the sharp pine scent that fills the car, that Tony can’t tell for the life of him what it means. 

“I need you to...” Captain Rogers says, as the turn signal starts to tick, “I need—” 

Tony’s insides shake a little as Captain Rogers pulls over along the kerbside, quite abruptly, and cars probably honk, but Tony is too distracted with the color that’s spreading on Captain Rogers’s cheeks to hear anything. 

“I just…” he finally turns back to Tony, with a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s not even seeing Tony, and yet his gaze burns through Tony’s core and calms his nerves somehow.

“You know, after the Great War, many alphas went MIA and left their omegas in absolute limbo.” He tilts his head to the side. “The omegas were not eligible for government help because they were not technically widowed, and they had no legal guardians to live with. A lot of them ended up in the streets, you know, in horrible situations”

Tony doesn’t _know_ any of that. What he does know is that being homeless is quite low on his list of options and it’s hopefully not what Captain Rogers has dragged him here to bring to his attention. 

“There was this practice in place, though.” He fiddles with the gear stick, and turns the volume down and up again. “The Hierarchy of Alphas Rule, to allow an alpha claim an omega based on the fact that a living present alpha takes precedence over one who’s been away for a long time. A rule from the 1860s, and yeah, maybe it was a political push to take these omegas off the government's hands but it became pretty common at the time. The only thing that the authorities would enforce was for the bond to be temporary, so they could hand the omega back in case their preceding mate showed up. You know, to prevent alphas from breaking each other's necks, not that it worked every time.”

Tony blinks and his vision blurs for a second. It’s hard to keep up with the images, even if he tries to avert most of his attention to the way the leather of the steering wheel is being too tightly squished between Captain Rogers fingers. He can't quite fathom how ridiculously painful it must be to be the omega who is being handed back to a mate, after being bonded to someone else, most possibly against their will, and that’s without thinking about the kids that had definitely been involved, because even illegal suppressants did not exist back then. This is what they mean by ‘it could be worse’ and how it applies in every situation even to Tony right this moment, because despite, well, everything, he doesn’t have to obsess about deciding between living on the streets or being some random alpha’s temporary omega against his will. 

Captain Rogers runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it. “I figured if the rule was still in place,” he breathes out, “it might be my only chance to get you out of the government house.” 

Getting Tony out of the government house with this mind-blowingly heartbreaking rule... what in the name of heaven is that supposed to mean? 

_So I'll fall to my knees_  
_And pray for the masses_  
_Cause this world_  
_Is all that we got_

“It’s been done before. A couple of times, but successfully. Matt’s onboard, he must be at the court now,” Captain Rogers adds, his body turned toward Tony, his cheeks cherry red, and his eyes shining. “I just need you to...” 

As Tony’s brain starts to process and understand, he wonders why he’s not reaching for the door and running away. He should be screaming now, or crying in absolute frustration, so why, why, why all he can do is to drown in the heavy bergamot scent and sit still? 

“A living, present alpha has precedence over the government… right?” 

Captain Rogers nods.

“But… who...” 

“I will,” Captain Rogers says, his voice low, different, a little shaky. “I’ll do it right this time,” he adds, and his fingers clutch the steering wheel with more force than before. “I just...can’t… I just can’t let you down.” 

If Tony was still 18, his heart would melt into a stinky puddle of pink goo with the way Captain Rogers's gaze is so impossibly soft. If he was the same glorious romantic who used to listen to love songs while sketching StarkPhone I design drafts, he would believe, in a heartbeat, that this stranger guy with that hair and that honey coated voice is telling the truth. He would lay his head on the alpha’s knees, and cry until he would fall asleep. If he was still that Tony, he would bask in the protectiveness that’s making the air in the car too thick to easily breathe in. 

Right now however, he’s none of that. The bunch of sharp shattered pieces he has in his chest are not capable of melting, and his fingers will be in no condition to even sketch a phone antenna because Ty knows exactly where to hit so it would hurt for so long on so many fucked-up, stupid levels.

 _With my fist to the wall, like a cannonball_  
_I'm gonna take 'em all out, gonna take 'em all_  
_Going down fighting_  
_I'm going down fighting_  
_I will run, I will crawl_  
_I will take them all_  
_Going down, I'm going down_  
_I'm going down fighting_

All he gets right now is being _that_ omega.

All he gets right now is a choice; a decision to either live on the streets or be this random alpha’s temporary omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope it was worth the wait 💓 please let me know what you think, kudos and comments are highly appreciated!
> 
> So sorry for all the angst, comfort is close, very very close I promise!
> 
> I tried to use the correct legal terms, but please let me know if something is terribly off :))
> 
> The song on the radio is [Going Down Fighting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlbB6WAVEdY&list=PLYAJPN33dQMQT2vdE16FfVP4GFO-KWzdJ&index=6) by Phlotilla and Andrea Wasse. This is this fic's [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mw5VIEIvuMI&list=PLYAJPN33dQMQT2vdE16FfVP4GFO-KWzdJ) on YouTube, if you wanted to listen to them all :)
> 
> *****Spoiler Warnings*****  
> This chapter feels more intense to me, maybe because of Tony's state of mind?  
> There are mentions of severe abuse against orother omegas, which ends up with one missing and one imprisoned, but it's pretty brief.
> 
> Nebula was an abused omega who unfortunately passed away.
> 
> There are more details of Tony's abuse but not too graphic.
> 
> If you think a tag is missing, please let me know, and I'll add it.
> 
> ******End of spoilers*****
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


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